


Are You With Me?

by byakugo



Category: Akatsuki no Yona | Yona of the Dawn
Genre: Angst, Drunken Confessions, HakYona kind of, M/M, Son Hak-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-19
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:20:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27633325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/byakugo/pseuds/byakugo
Summary: ❝ It had been such a nice dream. It really had. Good for two dreaming boys who wanted nothing but the world — and good for clinging desperately onto; for wishing upon flickering fireworks when the stars seem too far away and the scent of sake lingers on one’s thoughts.In which Son Hak realizes that some goals are too far away to reach.
Relationships: Son Hak & Yona, Son Hak/Soo-Won, Son Hak/Soo-Won/Yona
Comments: 3
Kudos: 22





	Are You With Me?

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qNc0c7q7Umw) song, since its lyrics fit SooHak so well.
> 
> Things that are canon: Yona isn't the only person Hak wanted to be with forever. We have yet to know if he is a lightweight, however.
> 
> If you think it's a bit on the shippy side between Hak and Soo-Won then that's totally my fault and I'm not ashamed at all.

**I. WAKE UP**

  


There is fire on the horizon — black fire mingled with the smoke of lightning and thunder. Darkness lies up ahead in the form of five thousand enemy soldiers patiently watching with bated breath, the silence so deep and saturated with what could only be quiet bloodlust. Not even their horses dare to nicker.

And yet the line beside him is long; the sun is to his back; and despite the storm brewing before his eyes Hak’s armor still manages to gleam, and so do the others’ in King Soo-Won’s company. Shafts of white light filter through the dusty gray clouds, glinting off the dragon banners of Kouka Kingdom. Deep within Hak’s heart he yearns for home, Hiryuu Castle, where within a red-haired princess stays safe among her trappings of silk and rose.

He wonders if he’ll ever see those high walls ever again. He wonders about Yona.

Will she cry if he doesn’t return?

Hak’s eyes water at the sight of them: the banners, his comrades whether they be from Wind Tribe or Fire — but a shriek resounds from up above and shatters the overhanging silence. Gulfan weaves a pattern above the soldiers’ heads as if giving them his blessing, and Hak’s heart can’t help but rise to his throat when the falcon dives in a blur of dark brown feathers to gracefully land on the shoulder of his owner.

He can’t distinguish friends from the mass of helmets surrounding him; in the king’s company, their uniform is the same despite which tribe a soldier hails, and yet Soo-Won’s figure is as bright and clear as the shining sun. He stands at the very front of the company like an angel of war, his white steed pawing the ground, sensing the anxiety writhing beneath it like a mass of snakes.

Hak grips his glaive, his knuckles going white, and tries to remember how to breathe. When he catches a glimpse of Soo-Won’s long hair flowing like a golden fountain in the wind, Hak nearly forgets to be afraid. His grip on the glaive is much surer now.

After all, Soo-Won is the light that will guide them to their victory.

The king urges his horse into a canter, then loops and gallops down the line. The silence breaks, and all Hak can hear now is the voice of Soo-Won — the voice of his king, his _best friend_ ringing like a thousand iron bells in his ears.

Soo-Won is saying something: something terrible and noble and stirring, yet all Hak can focus on is the swirling dust clouds ahead of him that obscure the enemy lines beyond. The clanging of the king’s sword against a thousand spears echoes into the sky and deep into Hak’s bosom till it’s just tinnitus, a rattling in his skull. The sound of furiously galloping hooves grows louder.

He looks up just in time to see Soo-Won approaching him, sword unsheathed and ready to hit his glaive. The sound of steel against metal rings sharp and clear, and when the king finally takes his place beside Hak, the man’s mind suddenly blanks.

“Son Hak,” Soo-Won’s voice is quiet and steady; yet Hak knows that brimming underneath the king’s calm tone is a faith that no army could ever shake. “Are you with me?”

Hak’s eyes widen. It’s been so long since the king’s addressed him by name.

Yes, he remembers now. Hak is on a battlefield, fighting for a kingdom, fighting for a princess — and yet he’s not alone. He’s General Hak of the Wind Tribe, and his most precious friend is here.

“I will never leave your side,” is Hak’s reply.

Gulfan lets out a resolute shriek, and the soldiers begin to move.

  


**II. STAY WITH ME**

  


It had been a nice dream. It really had. Good for mulling over alone in his bedroom at night, and good for daydreaming when he’s slouched on the castle staircase.

And yet Hak can’t help but shake his head at how foolish, ridiculous, _naive_ it had been.

Fantasies always turn out different from reality; seventeen-year-old Hak knew that well. Looking over at Soo-Won now, floating delicately out of his carriage with manservants at his hand and foot, Hak can barely imagine Soo-Won stepping even a toe onto a battlefield.

The grittiness of war is a job meant to be handled by him. Soo-Won, on the other hand, looks much better with a chess piece in his hand, far away upon a throne in a palace where no one could seem to reach him: the snake behind the veil, the untouchable king of a country that moves at his every word.

Yes, Hak decides. Fantasies are utter bullshit.

There’s a quiet yelp that steals Hak’s attention towards the procession beneath him. “Oh no, I’m completely fine,” he hears Soo-Won say, who’s waving a fluttery servant away. “Young lord, please be careful when stepping out,” the servant says, and Hak leans over the castle balcony to chuckle.

Soo-Won lifts his head up just in time to see Hak’s mocking eyes staring down, and before any of his servants can see he sticks out a coy pink tongue.

Hak scrunches his nose back at him, then disappears from the balcony to find the princess; it’s not difficult to guess where she might be, especially on days like today.

“Ugh, it’s _still_ curling!” He can hear Yona’s whine even outside in the veranda.

The man opens the door to a flustered Yona clutching a tiny fistful of her hair, red like robin’s wings — and just as tangled as its nest. “Jang-Mi, where’s that bottle of rose oil?” she cries impatiently, furiously raking a comb through her strands.

Jang-Mi promptly leaves her place at Yona’s dresser and in an instant is at the cabinet at the other end of the room. As Yona huffs and bounces anxiously, the maid hurriedly opens several drawers before pulling out a tiny crystal vial. The whole time Hak watches, amused, as Jang-Mi pours out the sweet-smelling oil onto her fingertips and strokes them through Yona’s locks.

Yona sighs, satisfied, and passes both hands through her hair — now smooth — as Jang-Mi finishes. She admires herself with great flourish in the mirror before she catches sight of Hak’s reflection, and her expression immediately sours. Her pink cheeks puff out; it’s cute, Hak thinks.

“Why are _you_ here, Hak?” the princess grumbles petulantly.

“No reason in particular,” Hak replies with a yawn, slouching lazily against the doorframe. An impish smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, he adds, “Just thought you might wanna know your boyfriend’s here.”

He easily dodges the thrown silver washing basin and the consecutive kitten punches from Yona.

“He’s not! My! Boyfriend!” shrieks Yona in between dainty swings of her fist, but all Hak can do is laugh and fiddle with her tiny wrists. “Why? Haven’t you spent the last three hours getting ready for your _date?”_

_“Ugh!”_

Yona’s groaning stops when a servant rushes into her room, but not for her — the message is for Hak. The man in question whips his head around, curious. “Master Hak,” the servant says, a bit breathlessly, “Lord Soo-Won– he’s– he’s requesting you join him at the stables.”

Usually Hak couldn’t be bothered with pastimes like horse-riding; he wasn’t opposed to strenuous activity, especially sparring, but he’d more likely be found dozing off in the branches of a tree rather than mounted on a stallion. “It’s because Hak’s _lazy,”_ Yona would sniff, and Hak doesn’t deny it.

But the three other people in the room don’t miss the way Hak’s blue eyes sparkle at the sound of Soo-Won’s name.

⁎ ⁎ ⁎

“What happened back there, when you were getting out?” Hak spurs his bay into a light trot, sidling right next to Soo-Won, who’s shed his fancy white clothes from earlier for simple trousers and a light gray robe. The young lord snickers as he replies.

“Ah, nothing. I think I tripped on the hem of my robe or something.”

“Well, you did cause _quite_ the ruckus.”

Soo-Won shoots Hak a dirty look. “Don’t exaggerate! You just happened to be nearby. My servants are such nervous wrecks these days,” he sighs. The young lord whips his head to the sound of Hak sputtering and turns up his nose.

“Really, Hak,” grumbles Soo-Won. “You don’t know what it’s like to always be babied by manservants all the time…”

“Of course that’d be the biggest thing you’d have to worry about, Lord Soo-Won,” laughs Hak between snorts. “Ahh…you’re funny.”

At that, Soo-Won tightens the grip on his reins with petty urgency and spurs his roan forward into a gallop, catching Hak off-guard. “What– hey!” the other man cries, kicking his horse into a hurried trot.

Soo-Won twists around in his saddle, his amber eyes twinkling with laughter and mischief. His lips slyly mouth the words _meadow_ and there’s not much else for Hak to do except follow him — he’s _Soo-Won_ after all, and even after almost a decade-and-a-half of being his companion Hak just can’t bring himself to deny him.

Hak catches up to Soo-Won in a split second, making sure to bump the royal’s horse in the side till Soo-Won’s relenting and shoving back. They thunder off into the bright blue horizon, leaning into each other, shoulders only inches apart; and by the time the castle walls fall away into the background and are replaced by rolling hills, the two men — whooping like young boys — stumble off their saddles breathless and laughing in the grass.

A familiar call resonates from above. Gulfan.

“He must’ve spotted us,” Soo-Won breathes, sitting up on his arms. He outstretches a hand towards the sky as if trying to gather the swooping bird in his fist.

“Gulfan missed you, y’know,” says Hak. “I gotta admit– you haven’t been coming over much lately. And the princess…she misses you as well, Lord Soo-Won.” His tone grows quiet as he studies his best friend from behind his dark bangs.

A half-smile tugging loosely at the corners of his mouth, Soo-Won whispers, “I’m sorry. I’ve missed you both too. My life has been…quite busy.”

The dark-haired man says nothing to that. Of course he’d be — as Hak grew older he’d become more keenly aware that Soo-Won was a _noble,_ perhaps a future heir — it’s a wonder how the other boy finds time to spend with him at all.

They stay like that for a long moment, soaking up the warm sun while the scent of meadow flowers and the sounds of soft nickering are carried by the breeze. Hak wordlessly sprawls right at Soo-Won’s side like it’s the most natural thing ever, resting his head on his own arms in lieu of a pillow. His eyes flutter closed to shade the piercing light of afternoon sun, and between the curtain of his eyelashes he can see Gulfan’s shadow hovering gracefully against a backdrop of blue.

Soo-Won doesn’t say a word. Hak can only ever wonder what the young lord is thinking, especially in moments like this — his friend’s features are calm and serene, blonde lashes brushing over his half-lidded gaze, and Hak pauses to admire him from where he is.

But it’s odd, Hak thinks. It feels wrong when Soo-Won isn’t smiling.

He stirs at the whispered sound of his name, and when he looks up Soo-Won’s amber eyes are studying him curiously through long honey bangs. “Hey, Hak.”

“Yeah?”

“Do you think–” once again the amber eyes lift towards the heavens. “Do you think I’ve gotten stronger?”

The question catches him off-guard. His gaze shifts towards his friend, who looks perfect against the canvas of open sky with his eyes upturned — when Soo-Won looks like that, Hak imagines he can see futures beyond the clouds that only he can grasp.

“I’m sorry…that was an odd question. It’s not like we were sparring or anything–”

“No! No, you’re fine…”

Venturing slowly as if testing thin ice, Hak replies with a shrug of his shoulders, “I think…your martial skills _could_ use some work,” And he makes sure to add just a drop of sarcasm in his tone — just in case.

Soo-Won stares down at him, but there’s no playful pout on his face.

“But when it comes to strategy, there’s no one better.” Hak shrugs again, a hint of frustration rising up in him. The question had seemed loaded in a way unique only to Soo-Won, and he didn’t know what his friend wanted him to say. That he truly _had_ gotten stronger? That he could totally match him in a sparring contest if he just napped a bit more often?

“You’d make a good king.” An image of the three of them flashes in his mind — King Soo-Won and Queen Yona side by side, with Hak looking on. It’s a pretty picture, definitely; yet Hak can’t help but grimace when he realizes how distant the other two look in his vision.

The image of the two side-by-side on the battlefield, the essence of his boyhood dreams, swirls to the front of his eyes, and even _that_ feels blurred and unreal. Even now, even with Soo-Won right beside him, the young lord seems far away.

And that’s when Soo-Won’s lips turn up in a smile that’s white and pearly. He looks better that way. “Thanks, Hak,” he says softly, moving to rub his hand on Hak’s arm. Hak returns it with a toothy grin, trying to shake off the strange, wistful feeling that had suddenly overcome him.

“I’m serious,” Hak says earnestly. “There’d be no better person.”

The man hoists himself on his arms till he’s sitting up, facing Soo-Won at eye-level. His mouth parts hesitantly — is it too presumptuous to say? Things were different from when they were still foolish, dreaming kids. “And…”

“And with me by your side, we could be…” _Invincible._

Soo-Won ducks his head, as if hiding a blush. “I was just wondering if…”

Instantly Hak shuts his mouth and neither say any more. Above, Gulfan cries out again, as if he’d sensed the growing stretch of silence between them and was trying to break it.

“Let’s go back,” declares Hak after a long while, getting to his feet and motioning for his friend to follow. “Yona’s probably mad that I’d interrupted your date.”

⁎ ⁎ ⁎

 _Well, they certainly do look good together,_ Hak muses as he watches Soo-Won and Yona converse over an (admittedly late) evening tea. He’s sitting a little apart from them: the two royals at the mahogany table and Hak leaning on the rail of the veranda, a half-finished cup of herbal tea in his hand.

Yona’s beaming, pink dusting her cheeks, as she leans over to tell Soo-Won something behind the back of her hand. The young lord chuckles brightly at his cousin, and Hak thinks if it weren’t for his impeccable talent of repressing his feelings his cup of tea would’ve soured from slight jealousy.

But he doesn’t allow himself to mull over that for long; after all, it had been Soo-Won who had generously offered Hak to stay with the both of them. Yona hadn’t seemed to mind either, not even when he’d dared to scoot between the two of them to pilfer a snack.

“Isn’t the sunset pretty, Soo-Won?” the princess chirps, eyeing the pinkening sky over the rim of her teacup. His chin resting in his palm, Soo-Won nods in agreement. “Yes, it’s quite spectacular. Don’t you think so too, Hak?”

Yona pouts — but it’s not like she has a good reason to forbid Hak from answering.

The dark-haired man only grunts his agreement. “The day passed by so quickly,” he adds after a pause, just in case his gruff reply should warrant a scolding from Yona. “Too quickly.”

“Indeed it has. Time flies when you’re out roaming the meadow, after all.”

Yona’s pout transforms into a groan as she grips her teacup tighter. “I think time is _wasted_ when you’re out there doing nothing,” she huffs, taking a loud sip of her tea as the two men share an amused look. With a chuckle Soo-Won soothes her, “Oh come now, Yona. It’s beautiful out in the open. Why don’t you join us next time?”

“I’m not really sure Father would allow that,” squeaks the princess. “I don’t know how to ride. And isn’t the meadow near the castle town?”

“Not really.”

“Well then that’s worse! I’ve never been to such a faraway place in all my fourteen years of living!”

“Good thing,” Hak pipes up, ignoring the sharp glare that Yona shoots him. “’Cause the last time we brought Your Highness two steps outside the palace, it didn’t end up well. Besides, the streets in town are no place for a proper lady like you.”

“What’s there, anyway?” questions Yona, turning to Soo-Won. “I remember it being a nicer place than out in the _wilderness,_ surely.”

The young lord laughs at Yona’s exaggeration. “Oh, Yona– probably many things you’ve never seen or tried before. But I don’t think it’s a good time to show you now; the sun’s already about to set.”

“And when the sun sets,” drawls Hak, sprawling over the railing with a suggestive gleam in his eye, “the night life rises.”

A curly mass of red hair whips around suddenly, and behind Yona Soo-Won shoots Hak a mortified look. “What do you mean?” Yona exclaims, but all at once Soo-Won’s hands are on her shoulders, twisting her around. “Oh, don’t listen to Hak,” he says quickly. The princess is once again spellbound by Soo-Won’s marvelousness just in time for him to mouth his displeasure at Hak.

Hak only sniggers to himself as he leans further against the railing, trying to catch the weak evening breeze as it whispers through his hair. The conversation had made him think of town; it’d been so long since he’d gone there. It’s midsummer now; perhaps the pubs would be livelier with the people celebrating the summer festival. Maybe he could coax another soldier to take his shift guarding the princess’ room and slip out for an hour or two–

“Hak?” calls Soo-Won’s voice. “Want another cup?”

“No thanks,” he murmurs in reply, eyeing the princess, who’s taking out a chessboard from underneath her stool and placing it between herself and her cousin. “You two enjoy the rest of it.”

⁎ ⁎ ⁎

Soo-Won has a habit of ending up in places he really shouldn’t be.

Deep scarlet fades to purple to navy as shy evening stars peek behind soft wisps of clouds. The soft orange lights of the town’s street lanterns reflect on the dark horizon up ahead, its warmth pulling Hak in for a honey-scented hug. A drink sounds enticing, Hak had thought, and apparently so had Soo-Won.

He hears approaching footsteps and soft horse nickers behind him, but he doesn’t need to look back. With a sigh Hak asks, “Soo-Won. What are you doing outside the palace?”

Sidling his mount next to Hak, the young lord shrugs, “If you manage to drink yourself unconscious, I’m not going to drag you back to the palace on foot.”

 _Lame excuse,_ Hak wants to smirk. _I know you like drinking when you’re not allowed to._ But for some reason, teasing his friend right now doesn’t seem as satisfying. _Why are you really here?_

Usually he would’ve enjoyed the thrill of a secret rendezvous with Soo-Won at the town in the night hours, thoughts of potentially being caught far from their minds. Usually. Not this time though. Now he’s not so sure.

He’d felt like drinking alone.

The buzz and color of the castle town’s street life hadn’t died down after sunset. With a casual gait Hak saunters through, yellow and green lights from lively lanterns and streamers bleeding onto the pavement like watercolors on a canvas. Every shop, restaurant and square is lit and busy, filled to the brim with people in colorful dress swarming in and out.

A summer festival had been held that day, and the two men had just managed to enter town when activity had begun to trickle down. Hak picks off pink confetti that had gotten stuck on his boot and lets the sound of distant folk music drift through his ears.

He makes sure to avoid the bustling bazaar so Soo-Won could follow him, but he slows down just enough so Soo-Won could admire the street — its colors are more vibrant than usual, and Hak has to admit, it’s certainly beautiful.

The man turns down on a less vibrantly lit alley where all the inns and pubs conjoin, stepping into the least busiest establishment he could find. “A bottle of sake, please,” he tells the waitress, and after a moment of consideration adds, “Two cups.”

Soo-Won joins him just as the waitress brings them their drink. He kneels across from Hak, casually tapping his knuckles on the table while his amber eyes scan the bawdy environment around him. It’s a thing he always does, Hak knows — he’s like a bird of prey, always watching and studying anything with a certain curiosity only he possesses.

“Pour me,” grunts Hak.

“Huh?” replies the other man, only half-listening.

“You’re my elder, aren’t you? But then again,” Hak ducks his head, lowering his voice, “I probably should be serving you first, since you’re a…”

But Soo-Won shakes his head and takes the bottle in his hand. “I’ll be watching you, though,” he warns as Hak relishes his first sip.

The slight sting of alcohol burns the back of his throat, but it’s cool and refreshing and tastes like summer. Eyeing Soo-Won from beyond the rim of his cup, Hak asks, “And you?”

Reluctantly Soo-Won fondles his cup between his palms. “Well…seeing as you did get two…” And Hak smirks as the noble lets a sake-filled cup go bottoms up.

Pubs have a nice din to them at night, Hak muses to himself, sitting with his best friend in a far corner where the ambience is just so. Lamp light glows gold and makes Soo-Won’s blonde hair shine, and he can’t tell if it’s the effects of the alcohol that make the rest of the pub fade into the background. The figures of other pub-goers go fuzzy until it’s just _him_ sparkling at the forefront of his world.

Soo-Won’s saying something but Hak doesn’t exactly hear. He can feel his eyelids droop — not because he’s tired, but because for a long while he’d been yearning for things to just _stay like this:_ a shared bottle of sake, with Soo-Won.

And perhaps Princess Yona, to hold close by his side?

A hand shakes him, and Hak nearly startles at the sudden closeness of Soo-Won’s slightly flushed face. “You drunk already? I told you I could hold my liquor better than you.”

“Wanna bet?” grumbles Hak, reaching for the sake bottle; but it’s empty. His friend clicks his tongue as he orders a second bottle, but doesn’t refuse when Hak pours him another.

“You’ve got some nerve, tempting me like this.”

“Tell me again which one of us decided to follow the other?”

“Well, which one of us decided to sneak into town to go drinking, of all things?”

Taking a swig from his cup, Hak mutters sulkily, “I haven’t done something like this in a long time. My post…I’ll go back soon, anyway.”

Leaning backward, Soo-Won scrutinizes the other man, whose black bangs are slightly plastered to his forehead due to light sweat. “Of course,” he sighs, eyebrows raising at the mopey way Hak fiddles with the rim of the sake bottle.

Chatter in the pub steadily builds up, and as the night deepens so does the flush on both men’s cheeks. Just as Soo-Won’s about to declare that it’s getting too stuffy in the building, a joyous clamor sounds from outside.

Both men look out to see the black sky crackling with blazing purples and reds and whites — fireworks. “Let’s go see,” breathes Soo-Won, dragging a slightly inebriated Hak to an outdoor table.

Cheek resting in his palm, Hak ponders the shimmering display of light above them. “Summer’s nice, isn’t it,” he murmurs, more mournfully than intended.

“Too bad it’s coming to an end soon.”

Blue eyes lock with amber ones for a split second. “It’s like a dream you wish would never end,” Soo-Won says again, glancing up at the lit sky as he takes a sip. “Or a fireworks show you hope would go on forever.”

 _Yes,_ Hak wants to reply, but a wistful feeling had overcome him long ago and he doesn’t feel like answering. How Soo-Won manages to say out loud the secret words written on his heart, he never knows.

It had been such a nice dream. It really had. Good for two dreaming boys who wanted nothing but the world — and good for clinging desperately onto; for wishing upon flickering fireworks when the stars seem too far away and the scent of sake lingers on one’s thoughts.

Hak watches sparkling light reflect on Soo-Won’s cheek and suddenly wants to cry. He can’t close his eyes to blink the tears away, for if he does his dream will reappear before his eyelids and just once — please, just this once — he wants to dream of it another night.

Soo-Won catches him staring, and he gives Hak a smile — soft, one that reaches his eyes, Hak’s favorite smile. “You’re a sad drunk,” he chuckles, reaching for the bottle.

He pours his own cup but instead of drinking, presents it in front of Hak. “Have your fill, and then we’ll head back,” Soo-Won whispers softly, but Hak can barely hear him over the sounds of merry laughter and cheering.

Grasping the shallow cup with both hands, Soo-Won brings it to Hak’s lips with a tenderness that almost makes Hak break down. Blazing colors reflect on the surface of the sake and suddenly Hak’s stricken by the strange realization that this may very well be the last time Soo-Won’s eyes hold his gaze like this.

Hak leans forward limply after gulping, burying his forehead into his best friend’s shoulder. “I want to stay with the both of you,” he chokes into expensive cloth, and he’s too woozy and sweaty to tell if it’s the sake talking. “I want to be with Yona…I want to be beside you. When you become…don’t leave me behind. _Please,”_ And deep within his bosom his heart is crying out for Soo-Won to _please, just answer._

 _…I’m begging you._ “Please, let me be…”

But Soo-Won stays silent as he rubs small circles in Hak’s back, uncaring of the fact that the man is drooling alcohol onto his robe.

Apparently, Soo-Won isn’t drunk enough to say the truth.

  


**III. I'M STARTING TO THINK I NEVER ACTUALLY HAD YOU**

  


Deep down his mind had always been certain, despite whatever his heart — which is now bleeding, and it _hurts so damn badly_ — had once said. Fantasies always turn out differently than reality; eighteen-year-old Hak knew it well.

All too well.

His voice, hoarse and close to breaking, reverberates over and over like he’s in an echo chamber, and yet no matter how loud his angry howls are they never seem to reach the man in front of him. Soo-Won’s eyes are unflinching, colder than the steel of his blood-stained blade; when his lips upturn, it’s not a smile, but a frightening smirk that doesn’t even reach his honey-brown gaze.

Or maybe he’s just imagining it.

Steel meets steel. He can hear Yona’s quiet sobs behind him, piercing deep between his ribs. _Why, why, why–_ the words ring in his mind like a funeral bell, rattling around his skull and pulsing behind his eyes.

His cries of agony fill up the dark night, yet the only sound Hak can hear is the shattering of his own heart.

When Yona and Hak finally manage to escape the castle, the words still echo. “Hak,” Yona manages to sob, “I can’t believe he’d…I thought he was…” the princess stumbles weakly into Hak’s grasp. The man can barely stand himself.

“Hak,” she whispers again, despite Hak’s gentle attempts to shush her. “Was he ever really our…”

Was Soo-Won ever really?

He pushes back sake-scented memories of summer breezes and late-night fireworks as he gathers his broken princess in his arms.

  


**IV. ARE YOU WITH ME?**

  


Sometimes Hak wakes up to ghosts haunting the dull spaces between the folds of his tent, and it’s only when he hears Yona’s soft, even breaths that he remembers where he is. Other times, the pallet underneath him disappears until he’s sinking, slowly drowning in a salty black ocean, but instead of outstretching his hand towards the blue sky he’s met with the ceiling of the forest canopy.

The dream is gone. Even if he’d wanted it to, it doesn’t visit him any longer. Soo-Won had slain it with a sword.

Yet the memory still lingers, somehow. And it aches whenever Hak thinks of those shimmering fire-lights, the faint sheen of tears he _thought_ he had seen in those soft eyes — eyes that seemed to smile whenever Soo-Won’s mouth did, beautiful and deep, ones he could look into and be able to understand an entire soul.

It hurts; damnit, it _hurts._ What had gone wrong? What had he missed?

He would’ve followed him.

Perhaps he’ll live with this pain for the rest of his life; but it’d be a good way to go, Hak figures, if he should one day collapse and die right next to Soo-Won’s limp, lifeless body.

Maybe he could follow him into hell. That had been all he’d ever wanted, once upon a time, and if it were to be Hak’s own bloody hands that drag the king’s body down into the abyss, then so be it.

The only thing that ever stops him from pondering death is the princess.

Yona, _Princess_ Yona, when she takes an arrow from her quiver and stretches forth her bow, her hair flowing like a bright ruby fountain, when her sparkling eyes are burning with a fire that turns hearts and bones into ash.

Every time he sees her, Hak thinks she’s been perfectly named.

“Hak,” the princess had asked him once, long after Yoon and their other traveling companions had drifted into sleep. “Are you with me?”

Longing, regret, fury — maybe the question kindles all three inside him at once. But Hak still manages to smile.

“Yes.”

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr: [@aceneji](https://aceneji.tumblr.com/)


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